ENERGY POLICY- THE GERMINAL REPOSITORY

          Sounds like science fiction, but it isn’t—when we choose to look at our lives as our own creation, chosen as souls and spirits, making matter real, physical, for us to mold, choice by choice, as we become aware – asking other souls and spirits to help us to share experiences; beginning with

An Agreement to Conceive, to Cherish

Even if cherish isn’t yet known as a skill in the toolbox of life – our power of choice may begin to take on a glow, a light which hereafter will never dull but only brighten. Once awakened to such a choice, a binding by and of love, the mind does not forget.

In the Archives, lives are recorded, some written by old instruments and faded by time, some freshly inked, all rolled in soft paper or pressed onto glass, or etched onto plates to be washed with color and printed.

The Keepers of the Archives are busy, bustling forms, usually women whose long hair shines with color, contrasting with the soft lamb’s wool grey of their clothing. The skin that shows beneath their sleeves is smooth and even-toned, different shades of gold, brown, white, black, bronze.

The color palette here is vivid yet suffused, intense though subdued, sundried. The sun shines brightly, hanging low in the sky, yet a haze hangs with it, making the air itself seem visible and shot through with a glowing heavy yellow orb.

Mostly medium-natured people live here, as my brilliant niece may have said – Not hot, not cold but medium – if it’s hot, they’re hot, if it’s cold, they’re cold.

To know where to go, to know where to find or create warmth from the cold or cold when heat is too much, becomes one description of the pioneering impulse, journey each takes, choosing to enter the Realm of Oblige/Return.

Facts in this realm are often shortened to Acts. What is seen is believed, though what is seen is a wide panorama of thoughts, words, and deeds, some smooth, some rough, some rhythmically rolling like ocean waves stirred by storms.

Things like, what does it mean to be heroic? Are asked in very visible ways – carved intricately in stone, with elegant flourishes, illuminated with lights falling on letters like a beckoning, a welcoming, an invitation, warm and exciting.

Mothers walk in with their children, holding hands as they stroll, pointing out the carvings, the sculpture, the dynamic gardens as their children’s faces fill with wonder, an enlightenment of Oblige/Return.

The Energy Policy is something that is always thought about, discussed, tweaked by each family, each person, each collective, because they know that this is their gift of life, their greatest living legacy: how they manage their greatest resource, themselves. Tutors teach primarily how energy is managed, directed, understood. How energy is understood in relationship to life itself, not simply the pieces of a life – food, water, wind generation, movement, as when we believed the pieces were separate, relatively easily  shelved, if not solved.

Watch it and learn, remember, appreciate.

http://www.carter-klan.org/HoraceCarter.html

Watch it and learn. Watch it and remember. Watch it and appreciate change and growth in its many-splendored expressions of humanity, as those who have the courage to march on and invite the rest of us to catch up, add to, build on.

Mountain climbing

Alex Buisse captures the adventure of climbing and free-flying in ways you will never forget. Take a look at his portfolio.

If there is a mountain there is a mountaintop. Unless we know there is a mountain, and we know the plains, we will never know there are peaks and valleys. Without this knowledge the oceans are invisible and beyond the depth of our perception.

We can never know there is a destination unless we truly know there is a beginning, and a journey, and there is a home. This perception applies everywhere – meals are not real to us unless our perception is satisfied of being full, in some way, satisfied.

My Dad used to say, early in any meal (except breakfast) – what’s for dessert? My mother would wince, predicting, and sometimes throw back to him, What did you have in mind? With a hint of not just sarcasm but just a hint of pepper and spice, easily detectable and yet easy to pass over if you knew her and knew him, as he easily passed over it with some charm or other and she served the dessert she’d already planned, in her own time.

MLK

Roots, bones, and seeds

Roots, bones and seeds -
What wild seeds are sown
In the minds of men, giants of the earth
Who don’t know their provenance, their origins
 Except that they are created.

Much more time and we learned that we began as eggs,
as heat-seeking microscopic missiles calling to one other and joining forces.
The shadows stretch with them,
Reaching long into forests and sometimes deep into
Canyons, ravines, sometimes the depths of oceans,
Until their gnarled fingers and feet begin to slow down,
To notice the smooth swirls of tree bark worn by centuries
Of wind, all manner of weather and time; until the roar of Unknown
ocean deep also opens into the golden illumination
Of long spears of light reaching through time from the sun
And showing particles dancing like raindrops in air, like sparklers
At night, like dust in the wind when it carries dust more gently
But visibly, moving air tangibly to make new layers, new forms
Until it is built upon or wiped away, clean.

Wake up today and hear the power of their roar,
The seeds come to bloom and letting out sound
Along with flower. Each culture grows and shows its
Provenance, its struggle, its power and bloom in old and new ways,
A voice perhaps like a tower of sound, a boom of ocean change,
A pound of thunder sounding across time and eternity of challenge
And cultural pearls forming. The precision of sound
and word has always been a kind of music.
Pearls begin by being trapped into being by growing.
Grit grows into beauty, if the environment supports it
and we know the difference.

There's a Trick with embedding I'm learning to do.....

Scrimshaw by M E Martin | Make Your Own Book

All Good Things

I do not mean to be shallowly optimistic or habitually cynical. What I mean to be is informed, committed, intelligent, compassionate, open-minded, engaged, and interested in who I am, what I am doing, where we are as a culture, as a world, as human beings. There is so much happening on large-scale stages in our world today that demands and needs our attention, our understanding, our resolving.  I understand, now, that we do not have to know the infinitely changing physical details of each dramatic situation to understand what path we want to take and what energy we choose to contribute, just as we do not have to know each chemical within our bodies and the name of each muscle and nerve that makes us to understand the basis of who we are and how to support our healthy structure and energy of life. We do have to want to know, and begin to seek the knowledge that teaches us to know more about ourselves and what it means to support a good life, which supports a collective “good life” as we define it. We must be open to expanding our definitions of life, too, or we will not be able to go with the changes that offer the opportunities that life reveals to us every day, every moment, from “near” and “far.” What I contribute to the world is my life as I live it. Love more, love better, be love and think always of what it means to have the gift of being alive. We have to know what we want to create before we can become conscious of our power to create.  This is a beginning of wisdom. Choose wisely ... .Laugh lots. Bake cake, eat cake, toast all good things that come.

Captivating

 http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/49.55.29

My mind is prone to wander into mazes that may be playful and fun but not as productive perhaps as … so many other things and perhaps another look at habits of mind and remembrance. There isn’t anything so scary there anymore, in that dark path, where twilight once hovered and slipped into a sometimes beautiful blanket of dark and moon. Moon-shadows that light the ground like outstretched limbs rest in full length, awaiting full light. Heat returns as sun rises and all nuance of light and dark changes. It is the thrill of a page turning, lunar light over water. Absolutely captivating.

The thrill of a page-turning is as simply beautiful as a leaf turning, a leaf floating, borne by any wisp of wind or even silence, to the ground waiting below, where it will begin to dissolve, slowly, into pieces, fragments, becoming almost fossil-like if we know how to look. The map and story of that leaf remains, in memory – ours and the Earth’s and the tree’s – as we honor the simple turning of seasons.

The delight of glittering sunlight is like a glimmer of a smile on a face which lights with love, remembrance, memory of laughter, and the spark of what will come next, an outstretched hand, a thought as a bridge to new tomorrows, and the absolute joy of come-what-may, the adventures we create and are.